


Green-Eyed

by Spiesbian



Series: Never Did Run Smooth [1]
Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Alcohol, Canon-Typical Violence, Jealousy, M/M, Owen doesn't know what a feeling is, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 06:23:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17976125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spiesbian/pseuds/Spiesbian
Summary: In which Owen doesn't know how to deal with his feelings and rather than deal with them he edges around the situation.





	Green-Eyed

Owen Carvour was not a jealous man, especially when it came to people. Being jealous was a dangerous thing with his job, unbeknownst to many people. Really, having any strong emotions was not a particularly safe thing. They were too unpredictable, cause one to make reckless and dumb decisions. Of course, he allowed himself to experience them outside of the field--he’d have gone insane by now if he hadn’t--but here, with one hand rested on the small of his back just above his gun and heartbeat pounding in his ears… this was not the place.

Still, watching Curt sit at the bar with that lady leaning so close was not helping his blood pressure. Those two shady men that were clearly hiding guns under their jackets sitting at one of the booths watching Curt as intently as Owen himself? He could deal with that. Everyday stuff. If they made any moves towards the pair at the bar Owen could shoot both of them before they even knew he was there and then he and Curt could be out of the bar before the police showed up.

He didn’t even have anything to be _jealous_ about. What did Curt have that he didn’t? The current pleasure of talking to one of the biggest arms dealers this side of North America? No thanks, Owen was fine sticking to the wall with a bottle of beer in his hand. Curt said something with that stupid grin and the woman threw back her head as she laughed at whatever he said. Owen’s chest tightened. What the fuck, she wasn’t even his type for that matter. He’d never been one for blondes.

Owen shook his head and downed the rest of the alcohol in one go. He needed to get past this, Curt needed him to have his back. He couldn’t just mess up their partnership because his emotional protocol was falling out on him.

Finally, after what felt like hours but was really just a few minutes, Curt got up from his seat and offered the jacket hanging on it to her. Owen dug his fingernails into the palm of his hand and bit down hard on his lip when she accepted it with a smile. She left with it wrapped around her shoulders. Fifteen minutes later, the men that had been watching them followed her route out the door.

Owen had to force himself not to run to join Curt at the bar.

“So what did our lovely target have to say?” He asked.

“Oh, not much.” Curt grinned. “Just that she has an apartment on the south side of town.”

“Oho, taking _favors_ from wanted arms dealers, are we Mega?” Owen smiled, but his throat burned. Seriously, why was he so worked up about this? Was the phrase “wanted arms dealer” not enough of a turn off?

“Well she did happen to mention that she works from a home office. Where better to keep your deadly weapon blueprints and sales info than your own personal safe?”

“Alright, fine detective work then.” Owen leaned closer, taking Curt’s half finished glass of whisky from the bar. “When are we heading in?”

Curt pouted and swatted Owen’s arm. “That’s _my_ drink.”

“The plan, love.”

“Fine! I was thinking we could head over in thirty.”

“Thirty _minutes_?”

“Yea, she’s going to a banquet tonight so her apartment is going to be empty and what does that mean? Two of the world's best spies can sweep in and find out who the infamous Alexandria has been dealing with for the past six months and maybe steal some plans while we’re at it.” There was that stupid grin again. Curt grabbed Owen’s free hand. “It’ll be great! We’ll get the job over quick and spend the next few days having some fun!”

Owen hesitated. As he and Curt had been working their way up the chain, they’d been having less and less free time and he did miss the times when they’d gotten drunk and spent half the night giggling… 

Wait, no, he was _mad_ at Curt right now. Probably. Whatever. Owen knocked back the glass of whiskey. “Let’s do it.”

Within the next hour, they had found out that the apartment was _not_ actually empty. The hard way. Owen grunted as the guard that had been inside shoved him against the wall. “Curt!”

“Just give me a minute!” He yelled back.

The guard started to leave Owen as he realized Curt was fiddling around with the safe. He grit his teeth and swept the man’s legs out from under him. “Oh no you don’t. We’re having such _fun_ together.”

“You’re having fun without me?” Curt called.

“Curt, sweetheart,” Owen singsonged, lifting the guard up and pinning him to the wall in the same way he himself had been just moments ago. “I love you but I’d be much happier if you just focused on getting those files out so we can leave!”

“Right.” 

Owen let go and dove for the gun he’d dropped earlier, using split second aiming to land a bullet directly between the guard’s eyes before he could react. “I bought you some time but I can guarantee that more of these guys are going to show up within the next five minutes.”

“Lucky for you that I am a master safecracker.” Curt grinned at him as the door swung open. He started stuffing files into the satchel slung around his shoulder. “What’s the escape route?”

Something slammed against the front door, then started banging on it over and over again. “Not that way, I suppose.” Owen hummed.

“What other way is there? This is almost the penthouse floor.”

Owen’s eyes drifted over to the window on the other side of the room. “Well…”

“No way. I’m not doing that.”

“I happen to have one MI6 issued grappling hook.”

“ _One?_ What am I supposed to do, hug onto you like a damn koala bear?”

“Not a half bad idea.” The banging on the door became more frequent. “Looks like we don’t have much of a choice, do we?”

He grabbed Curt’s hand and pulled him over the window. It took less than fifteen seconds to pull the grappling hook out from his pack and hook it up to the window. Curt hesitantly wrapped an arm around his waist. 

“Ready, love?”

“I hate you.”

“Wrong answer.”

Owen tipped out of the window, dragging Curt along with him. Their descent was fast. He let them fall several stories before bracing his feet against the side of the building, just enjoying the wind in his hair and Curt screaming in his ear. The shrieking quickly evolved into laughter, the kind that bordered on exhilaration and hysteria. 

They eventually reached the ground, now moving at a slow enough speed that they could easily drop the last few feet the rope didn't afford them, and Curt was still laughing. Owen's stomach flipped at the huge smile on his face, brain taking note of how his hair caught the light from the street lamp now that it had lost its styled sheen and gotten soft around the edges.

“We're alive!” Curt threw his arms around Owen. “That was amazing but never fucking do that again!”

Owen realized maybe Curt hadn't been the one he was jealous of.

* * *

Curt scrunched up his nose, fiddling with the glasses on his face. “I hate this. I look ridiculous.”

“You look lovely.”

“There is a reason I don't wear these things except for reading and there's a reason I don't _read._ ”

“Ah, yes. The markings of a great spy.” Owen turned Curt away from the mirror, taking the chance to fix his partner's crooked tie. “It's just temporary. We can't exactly bring in a camera, can we?”

“Yea…” Curt mumbled. 

“Let's review the plan.”

“What? No, I already know it!”

“Then you'll have no problem remembering everything. The target is?”

“A Chinese supplier, Lian Zhou. I'll be able to recognize him due to his signature camellia pin on his lapel.”

“I am?”

“My assistant Luka, so there's no need for you to follow us into the back room.”

“Good. And you are?”

“The Russian diplomat Andrei Nikolaev,” Curt replied in his close to flawless Russian accent. “Here to review the plans for Zhou to supply Russia with materials for weapons, which Curt Mega will get pictures of using some stupid ass glasses.”

Owen pat Curt’s cheek. “Very nice. Work on your “r"'s a little though.”

“Oh like _you_ can talk, your Russian accent sounds more like a dying duck. How's the real diplomat doing, anyways?”

“Let me check.” Owen leaned back to look through the door at the man tied to the chair inside the other room. “How are you doing in there, Andrei?”

The Russian simply glared at him, somehow clearly portraying the message _“If I weren't gagged and bound I would be clawing your eyes out and screaming every curse I know.”_

“Great! We'll be back before dawn, alright?” He turned back to Curt and found him still messing with the glasses. “Will you stopped fiddling with those? You look fine.”

“I don't want to look fine, I want to look great.”

“Well you do.” Owen said honestly. He gently pushed Curt's hands away from his face at pushed the glasses up his nose. “I think they're adorable on you.”

Curt stared at him for a long time and Owen realized that maybe that wasn't the most normal thing to say to your partner. He cleared his throat. “Well, we should get going now, shouldn't we? The dinner is going to start soon.”

Owen spun around on his heels and headed out of the safehouse before Curt could reply. The car waiting outside was one of the most expensive he'd ever seen, let alone been given for a mission. Though he did suppose they'd never been given the part of a foreign ambassador before.

Curt dropped into the passenger seat as Owen slid behind the wheel. He rested his elbow on the door, pouting like a little kid. “Why can't you be the one that wears the glasses?”

“Your Russian is better than mine. You're the one that was shittalking it just a few minutes ago.” Owen started the ignition. “Why are you getting so worked up over this?”

“I don’t know! This whole mission is just putting me on edge. I’m not exactly the proper type like you.” Curt shifted around. “Plus _you’re_ driving-”

“We discussed this, it’ll be suspicious if the ambassador is driving his assistant.”

“It’s still weird! I’m always the driver!” He kicked the door, mumbling. “I just don’t like change.”

Owen nodded, tightening his grip on the wheel. It was best to get this night over with. He was already nervous about the few minutes Curt was going to be alone getting pictures of the plan. That was what sucked about this assistant cover, he wasn’t supposed to be privy to classified information like that.

The rest of the ride was silent and awkward, and Owen felt guilty about the wave of relief that rolled over him when they pulled up to the banquet venue. He turned to Curt. “Stay in your seat, I’ll come over and open the door for you.”

Owen opened the door and swung his legs out, crossing around the car to pull open the passenger side in true assistant-like fashion. He was a bit surprised to see Curt glaring at him for all he was worth. “...What?”

“You don’t have to treat me like this.” Curt hissed.

“I am trying to keep our cover,” Owen whispered back. He took Curt’s hand, helping him out of the car. “Why are you acting so pissy tonight?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you need to shape up because if you act like that in front of Mr. Zhou’s _armed_ guards you might not live to see another day.” He sighed, beginning to walk up the marble stairs alongside his partner. “I’m sorry, I know that this is stressful, but I worry about you, okay?”

“Then don't,” Curt said with clipped words. 

They two pushed through the doors. Owen immediately became a little more nervous. There were more people here than he was expecting. That made it easier for the two of them to get separated in a stampede if anything… Alarming happened. He leaned close to Curt.

“The shutter is activated by a pressure sensitive pad on the bridge of those glasses. Just-”

“Adjust them like a nerd and I'll get the photos, I know,” Curt said much louder than Owen would have preferred. “Let's go mix and mingle until Zhou gives the signal.”

He drew up his shoulders and closed his eyes. When he opened them, Curt’s whole demeanor had shifted. Gone were the scowls and constant tweaking of the glasses, now he was smiling and walking with his head held high. It was impressive, frankly.

...Owen also had to admit that Curt cleaned up very well in a suit and tie.

The two bounced around the room, between foreign dignitaries and aristocrats. Honestly, it was going much better than Owen expected. Curt was taking the small talk in stride, and it was nice to stand back and just nod along to everything he said. It wasn't exactly a high stress role, and the gun hidden under his jacket provided a comforting weight.

It was honestly going great up until someone backed up into Curt. Owen’s hand shot back to hover over his weapon. He noticed Curt move to do the same and stop short. He didn’t have a gun due to the check Zhou’s guards would make on him, it was the whole reason Owen was with him.

“Whoa! A little jumpy there, huh?” The man said in a very American accent. “You alright?”

Owen slowly lowered his hand, waiting for Curt to saw something. An awkward amount of silence passed. He glanced over, finding Curt staring at the stranger with wide eyes. Owen subtly nudged him.

“Yes!” Curt blurted out. “I’m fine, thank you!”

“You’re one of the more animated people I’ve seen at this event.” He smirked. “I feel as though I should at least give my name after that display.” He bowed slightly, irritating Owen for some reason. “Jonathan Ross.”

“Andrei Nikolaev.” Owen heard a few hitches in Curt’s words, but he only heard them due to how familiar he was with his speaking patterns. “Are you here alone?”

“Ah, I was supposed to be here with a friend but he dropped out at the last minute.” Jonathan tilted his head towards Owen. “I assume you’re here together…?”

“Oh, no, Luka’s just my assistant!” Curt turned to him. “In fact, how about you get us some drinks?”

Curt’s face had _I dare you to blow our cover for this_ written all over it. Owen grit his teeth. He supposed something like this was bound to happen due to how upset Curt had been with his earlier treatment. He nodded, turning away to go find one of those waiters that was walking around with glasses of champagne.

It didn’t take too long, even if it was longer than he was expecting. Within a few minutes he was walking back with two glasses in his hands. Curt better not have gotten himself killed in the time Owen was gone, not that he wouldn’t have predicted it.

When he got back, the crowd seemed to freeze in time around Owen. Curt and Jonathan were a lot closer than they had been before he left. Curt's hand rested on top of the other man’s on the table, a weird kind of dreamy smile on his face. 

Something was stuck in Owen's throat. His heart was seemingly trying to beat out of his chest, he couldn't hear another over the roar of blood in his ears. The hand that he'd used to help Curt out of the car was burning. What was happening? Owen had never felt like this before, even when Curt had been talking to those women. 

Maybe because Curt never had this look on his face when he talked to women.

When Jonathan reached up and fixed Curt’s slightly crooked glasses, whatever trance had kept Owen rooted to the spot broke. His head still felt like it was stuffed with cotton, but he walked forward.

Once he deemed himself close enough, he caught his foot on a passing patron’s, sending him pitching forward and one of the drinks splashing into Jonathan's face. Curt instinctively caught Owen before he hit the floor, and he took a little bit of solace in that.

“Oh I am so sorry!” Owen gasped. He was laying it on a little thick, so he toned the dramatics back. “I should have been more careful where I was walking, I-”

“No, it's fine.” Jonathan sounded _very_ irritated. 

“Yes, I'm very sorry about my assistant,” Curt said. “He can get you another drink if you'd like?”

“That's alright, I should…” He scowled at his ruined tux. “I should go clean up.”

“Have a good rest of your night!” Curt called as he left. When Jonathan was out of sight, he turned to Owen. “What the hell?”

Owen held up his hands innocently. “Even I can trip sometimes.” 

“Bullshit, you-!” Curt stopped, then sighed. “Yea, okay. I get it. That was just… Special for me okay? I don't get a lot of chances like that.”

“Like what?” Owen didn't want the answer he already knew, but he couldn't stop himself. 

“Nevermind. I have to go, Zhou is giving the signal.”

Owen felt a horrible about ruining Curt's night, but some terrible part of him was just jealous about Curt had been looking at Jonathan.

* * *

“I did not sneak you out to my favorite bar for you complain about the whiskey.”

“It's terrible!” Owen protested. “This could be used as a form of torture.”

Curt shoved him even though he was smiling. “God, I don't know why I hang out with you outside of work if you're just going to whine.”

“At least I'm getting some food out of this.”

“Yea, and some good food too. None of your bland British shit.”

Owen placed a hand on his chest in mock offense. “British cuisine is a fine delicacy you heathen.”

Curt didn't even dignify that with a response, just doubling over laughing. Owen loved it when he laughed like that. It never happened on missions, and since that was usually when they were around each other moments like this were a rare blessing. He probably looked like an idiot, staring at Curt Mega with heart eyes, but fuck it. He was going to enjoy spending time with his friend without the threat of being shot.

“You’re going to get a burger,” Curt said when he finally stopped laughing. 

“Ooo, being authoritative. I love it.”

“No, I’ll just have to pay less if we order one and I steal it from you.”

Owen snorted. “I thought you said you were going to treat me.”

“I am, I gotta eat too, man.” 

“Oh, aren’t you just the pinnacle of gentlemen? Here I was thinking that you would stay… true to…” He trailed off as he realized that Curt was staring off and not paying attention. “Hello? Earth to Curt?”

“What?” Curt blinked. “Oh! Sorry, I just saw an old friend.”

Owen's defensive instincts kicked in. “As in an old friend from work? Do I need to take them out?”

“No! Christ, Owen.” Curt raised a hand and waved. “Hey, Brendon! Over here!”

Owen followed his line of sight to a tall, lanky fellow shaking his coat off near the doorway. He caught sight of Curt and grinned. 

“Curt Mega! Well, I never thought I'd see you again.” Brendon crossed over to them. Those defensive instincts still buzzed in the back of Owen's brain for some reason, kicking into high gear when the other man threw his arms around Curt.

“Well, my job brought me back again.” Curt returned the embrace easily. “I thought you would have moved out by now.”

“Oh, it's only been a few years, I'm not about to get sick of this place so easily.” Brendon stepped back, finally catching sight of Owen. “Who's this?”

Curt looked back at him. “This is-”

“Owen.” He slipped an arm around Curt's shoulders. Why was he doing that? “I'm his partner.”

“Well, it's nice to meet you!” Brendon grinned again. Wow, this man was _much_ more energetic and light spirited than Curt's usual type. One of the two must have changed a lot over the years. Part of Owen liked to think that it was Curt, that _Owen_ was the one with high ground over _Brendon_.

Curt leaned a little bit into Owen, which provided him a brief moment of comfort before it was dashed away. “Do you want something to drink? I don’t think I paid for our round before I left.”

“Ah, so he gets a drink and I get half a burger?” Owen asked, hoping the bitterness in his voice wasn’t as thinly veiled as he thought.

“Oh, piss off, I already got you a drink which you complained about, and I’ll get you another.” Curt shrugged off his arm. Owen ignored how that made him feel.

“Well…” Brendon smiled. “I shouldn’t, really…”

“By all means, don’t let us keep you out,” Owen said. “It is rather late, after all.”

“What? No, come on!” Curt pouted, waving an arm. “Both of you aren’t any damn fun!”

“I’m sure I can stay for one drink.” Brendon took a seat at the bar next to him. Owen turned away from them, trying to hide his scowl behind his glass of whiskey. God, it really was shitty. The aftertaste was the worst part.

* * *

Owen dropped his bag on the floor, kicking the door shut behind him. It had been a while since he’d stepped foot inside his shitty apartment. He was always bothered by how empty it felt, how blank it was, but that was more his fault than anything else. He could decorate if he wanted too, but it always felt awkward for some reason. Any time he _did_ finally get something it always felt out of place. And thus, the only decorative piece he owned was a small bowl of pebbles on the table that he’d collected one day.

He kicked off his shoes and made a beeline for his bedroom. Exhaustion had settled in all the way too his bones, filling his limbs with imaginary weights. Owen was too tired to even make dinner. Oh well, he’d just have an extra big breakfast in the morning using the loaf of bread that was in his kitchen...

Or maybe he could go out and get something.

Owen didn’t bother getting under the blankets. Or rather, blanket. He needed to get to sleep, fast before he started thinking about Jonathan and Alexandria and-

He was already doing it. He raked his fingers through his hair, digging nails into his scalp. Christ, Owen wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be calm, collected, the picture of grace under fire, and here he was losing control every time Curt got into a remotely romantic situation with someone else. This wasn’t even good friend behavior. He couldn’t get that scene out of his head, just a looping image of Curt kissing _that_ … that…

Owen let his hands go limp. Owen Carvour was not supposed to be a jealous man, and Curt Mega had ruined him.

**Author's Note:**

> welp, first post in the saf fandom. this was a request from the discord and it was,,,,, good,,,,,,


End file.
